Samara Golden’s got guts. The manifold meanings of this terse visceral word—whether it refers to one’s corporeal intuition, a vigorous form of bravery and conviction, a gnawing anxiety that twists inside the belly, or that cathartic moment when a torrent of emotions and stories erupt from one’s body—were marvelously uncoiled and spilled across “Guts,” the artist’s solo exhibition at Night Gallery.

For more than a decade, Golden has been making spaces in what she has called the “sixth dimension” via her otherworldly installations, where mirrors reflect this realm and those beyond. Foam-insulation

THE DEATH OF CINEMA has been announced almost as often as the death of God. And why not link film to religion? For true cineastes, basking in the reflected images of more stars than there are in heaven (as the old MGM tagline had it) supersedes any epiphanies in church. But in Hollywood these days, signs of decay, if not of mortality, are everywhere. On Sunset Boulevard, the iconic Cinerama Dome has been shuttered since the start of Covid, the Oscars have been shedding categories and viewers, and box-office receipts were trending

For his Los Angeles debut at Anat Ebgi in 2017, Jordan Nassar presented a selection of small cotton-on-canvas panels featuring silhouetted embroidered images of swelling, often mountainous terrain. Each thread painting offered a complex and surprisingly tender evocation of a landscape receding into pictorial space, seemingly predicated on a structuring of distance: These environments were simultaneously close but inaccessible, formal yet geopolitical. Much of this effect stemmed from Nassar’s use of Palestinian tatreez embroidery, a form of traditional hand stitching used by women to decorate

Cloud, 1974–78, a body-size construction by Nicola L. (1932–2018), is a large, wall-mounted rectangle of cotton canvas measuring five feet high and three feet wide. From it hang five pockets of fabric that respectively mimic a head, arms, and legs. This object is one of the artist’s “Pénétrables,” 1968–2012, so named by French art critic Pierre Restany in the late 1960s. These wearable works were paraded in various art and non-art settings around Europe in the 1960s and 1970s by figures such as musician Caetano Veloso, attendees of the 1970 Isle of Wight Festival, and the artist’s own son.